


until the last note fades

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Eventual Gladnis, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, additional relationships to be added - Freeform, noctis and stray instruments, really slow burn i mean it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-07-15 08:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: "Anyone can play guitar," or so the song goes. A story about the work and love that goes into making a dream happen - no matter what that dream might be.





	1. open on all channels, ready to receive

Noctis was sprawled on the floor, tinkering with a pedal. He had the cover off, a screwdriver in hand, and was fiddling with the connections inside.  From the couch, Gladio looked over from his notebook with a chuckle. “That a new one? Where’d you pick that up?”

Noctis’ eyebrows pulled together behind a fall of hair. He didn’t look up from his task as he answered. “Pawn shop. It’s old.” He frowned and picked up the case to look at the brand name. “Duscae, looks like. Just reverb and some fuzz. It was cheap, needs some work but I think I got it.” He poked at it again with the screwdriver. 

Gladio grunted in acknowledgement and resumed scribbling. He had his feet kicked up, taking up an entire couch by himself. 

Ignis stormed in the door and kicked off his shoes with more vigor than usual. He flopped moodily into a chair. “Good fucking gods, work was a terrifying nightmare today.” One long leg crossed over the other as he exhaled and took in what the other two were up to.

Gladio chuckled and looked up. “Well, that’s dramatic. Usual bullshit, or a little bit extra?” 

“Oh, everyone was fucking  _ extra  _ today; that was the problem. It’s not worth talking about.” He waved a hand. With usual laserlike focus, Ignis switched to the relevant issue. “Any thoughts on a new drummer? We have three weeks.”

Gladio looked at Noctis. Since their drummer had quit to go back to graduate school, they’d been floundering. Still making music, of course, but their “tour,” if you could call it that, loomed.  Ignis, always the worrier-in-chief, harped on it, but for good reason. They needed to replace her if they were going to manage this. They’d all already put in for time off and this was important to all of them. Early evening sun slanted through the window as if to remind them that another day was passing.

Noctis stirred out of his concentration on the inner workings of the pedal and blinked up at them.  “Oh yeah, that.”

“Yes, that.” Ignis smiled at him with fond amusement. “Did you have something?”

Noctis unwillingly tore his gaze away from the wires and bits tangled in the metal box, finally meeting Ignis’ eyes fully as his focus shifted. “Yeah. Yeah, I know a guy - he just got done filling in for someone else. He’s cool, we went to high school together. Haven’t seen him much lately, but he sends me a message every now and then. Good guy.”

Gladio and Ignis talked over one another.

“Who was he filling in with?”

“Can he play?”

“Yeah, some punk band, I forget. They were good enough to tour, so.”  Noctis shrugged. “Want me to see if he can come by?”

* * *

A deep note slid up smoothly as Gladio turned a silver knob, pulling his bottom string a note higher than it had been and back into standard tuning. “Where’s Noct? Did he go out to grab food?” 

He slung the strap of his bass over his shoulder out of habit, even though he was just going to sit with it on his leg. He ran his hand over it appreciatively, never tiring of the look of the honey-colored polished wood that faded out to red and then to black around the edge. He’d had the instrument for a while - the first “good” bass he’d had the money for, and though he had a couple more it was the most comfortable in his grip and the most familiar for songwriting.

Ignis just nodded, fiddling with the playlist on his phone before setting it on the table. “I think so. I’ve got an idea for this one - almost. I can’t quite capture it.” He fussed, looking up and to the side thoughtfully. “These lyrics are beautiful, by the way. Really good.” Ignis pointed at Gladio’s well-worn notebook with appreciation. He picked it up, held it open in one hand, and trailed his finger along the swoops and crossed-out words on the page.

Gladio smiled and blushed a little, lifting his arms behind his head to wrap the long, heavy mass of his hair into a messy knot. “Thanks. It’s hot as fuck today, you know?”  

It had been oddly sticky and gross on the walk over here. Ignis just shrugged and Gladio would bet he hadn’t even noticed. He got like that sometimes, focused, tuning everything else out, and it was really fun to watch. Noctis did it too, except it was hard to keep Noct present. Noctis would cocoon into himself a little bit and then come back up for air. Iggy did a better job of staying with him and when it went well this part of collaborating was like a dance, or a conversation - the two of them batting ideas back and forth, adding and subtracting. They knew each other well enough to fall into familiar patterns, and it was one of the best things Gladio did or knew how to do, and his favorite part of this jalopy of a lifestyle.

Organ music came out of the portable speaker, and Gladio laughed and groaned at the same time. “Is this Noct’s shit?”

Ignis laughed back. “No, it’s my shit.” Graceful fingers brushed messy strands out of his face. He scowled upward. “I need to do something with this.”

“I didn’t know you were into the Doors.” Gladio mused. “I guess they do kinda have that prog-rock vibe going on.”

“Jim Morrison was a consummate performer. And you really should give prog-rock a chance…”

“Please,  _ please _ don’t start talking about the Alan Parsons Project again.”

Another soft laugh left Ignis and he nodded in defeat. “I’m not going to convince you, am I?” He poked at a button and turned off the music.

Gladio shrugged. “You’ll get me to appreciate the occasional Yes song. That’s probably it.” He fished out his own phone, hit a button, and laid it on the floor. Atrocious recording quality, but between it and their notes they’d be able to make their way back to any songs they wrote later if they were able to scrounge up any studio time.

“Mmm, tremendous bassist.” Ignis nodded appreciatively as he grasped his ancient pale green guitar with the scratched front and sat down. Gladio put the notebook under his toe, holding it open on the floor so they could look down at it. 

“This would be easier with drums.” Ignis frowned just a little and bit his lip. That was a more long-term problem, however.

“Bass is also a - “

“A rhythm instrument; I know, Gladio.” Ignis waved his hand in mock irritation, but a smile danced around his lips. He started playing a gentle arpeggio, without a pick, fingertips just flicking lightly over the strings, as they got into a rhythm. Gladio listened, and thought, and added the occasional low, ringing note.

Ignis wrapped long fingers around the neck of his guitar, and moved slightly to the small broken strains of music they were making - hips and shoulders bouncing back and forth in opposition.  Gladio marveled at how loose Ignis got when he got anywhere near music; it was so different from his usual carefully crafted, borderline-stuffy persona. 

Gladio got into the groove and put together a quick bassline that complemented the chords Ignis had chosen. The lyrics Gladio had written were about change, and transition, and something complicated just seemed to fit. Ignis’ eyebrows rose in appreciation - he never failed to appreciate Gladio’s raw musicianship. He changed what he was doing in response, and Gladio grinned. Ignis’ voice lilted over their music with a slow melody that contrasted with the fast-moving bassline.

Noctis stepped back into the room with his usual quiet tread, and saw what they were doing. “That sounds good, you guys. I got burritos.” He spoke softly, to avoid interrupting their flow.

Gladio nodded his thanks, and jerked his head for Noctis to join them. He grinned and grabbed his deep red guitar from where it stood in the corner, plugging it in and turning the volume down low. He stood behind Gladio for a moment, still, and when Ignis stopped singing, Noctis let loose a long strain of notes that was its own song, fitting into what they were doing. He fed his riff back into the shape of what they’d made as the verses recommenced and the three of them continued, completely absorbed. Gladio watched Noctis’ and Ignis’ hands move up and down the necks of their guitars at the same time, playing the same chords but different notes.

Ignis dropped out briefly, listening as Gladio and Noctis wove in and around each other. He still wanted a rhythm, and began tapping on the front of his guitar with long fingers, frowning. “That’s not quite it…”

A blond head peeked around the corner, strands spiked up in an elaborate, trendy hairstyle, and a friendly grin followed. The guy had drumsticks in one hand and was absently clacking them against the phone in his pocket in a rhythm offsetting Gladio’s bass. Ignis stopped and looked at him sharply, then flipped to a new page in the notebook and began scribbling furiously, waving him over. The blond man looked amused and confused at the same time.

“Noct - uh, texted me? I heard that you guys needed a -”

“Talk later.” Ignis’ tone was clipped and sharp. “Sit.” He pointed at the drum set behind them. “Keep doing that.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the hand holding the drumsticks.

Noctis looked up and grinned. “Guys, this is Prompto.” He knew this mood of Ignis’, and kept the conversation short.

Ignis didn’t look up from the notebook. “Nice to meet you, Prompto. Now, keep going.” He looked up briefly over his glasses. “Please.”

Gladio let out a light chuckle and acknowledged Prompto with a nod. He’d get to know the guy later, once Ignis was out of businesslike mode. He was grinning - moments like these usually resulted in music they were happy with.

Prompto sat down and immediately dropped one of his drumsticks, sending it crashing down over a cymbal and onto his foot. Face red, he snatched it up and started playing the rhythm he’d been tapping out against his pocket.

Gladio tried to remember how Noct knew this guy - he was good. Ignis nodded in acknowledgement and continued to scribble, letting Noct noodle and Gladio continue holding it down. He stuck the pen in his mouth and went back to playing along. They got louder, and Noctis turned up his amp with a small smile and riffed happily, fingers flicking up and down the neck lightly and easily.

As they wrapped it up, Prompto played a complicated flourish, watching the rest of them for the final beat.

Ignis tucked the pen behind his ear and his eyes caught Gladio’s. “I think we’ve got the shape of it now.” He remembered Prompto’s presence, and let out a small self-deprecating laugh. “And welcome, and thank you for indulging us - me, Prompto.” He flashed a grin at Prompto, who returned it with crinkled eyes.

“That was fun. Nice to meet you guys.” The brief jam had loosened him up and the breathless hesitation was gone. He twirled a drumstick around one finger, clearly in his element.

“Likewise. You wanna try another one?” Gladio was eager to see what else he could play. The four of them batted around several songs - Gladio making a joke about how Coernix wasn’t famous enough for Prompto to know any of their songs. He protested, saying he’d kept up with Noct over the years, and drummed his way through two of their own songs, basic and far from perfect but solid. Ignis looked at Gladio, and their eyes both went to Noctis, who grinned, tossing hair out of his face.

“You looking for another gig right away?” Gladio asked. “Because that was great.”

“Like, just for the tour, or - “ Prompto scratched his neck with one of his drumsticks. 

“Well, I'm pretty sure you just got yourself a songwriting credit on that first one, so let's take it from there, hey?” Noctis grinned and gave Prompto a high-five without taking off his guitar. “You want half a burrito?”

There was an entire set list of songs to practice, and three weeks would go by quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very much inspired by the videos for Radiohead's [The Numbers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ti6qhk3tX2s) and [Present Tense](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hgVihWjK2c).
> 
> So many thanks to my wonderful beta [littlecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes), an amazing writer who you should absolutely check out! Any remaining errors are mine.


	2. be your own spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets to know the guys a little better, Crowe and Nyx open a new chapter, and Ravus and Luna close one.

“Damn, Gladio, can you _play_ that?”

Gladio was already plugging in, and he just grinned while making sure his cable was secure before flicking on the amp. Instead of answering, he took a moment, turned up the volume, and then let loose with the song’s signature frenetic, fat bassline. Prompto’s jaw slowly opened, and Gladio kept playing, walking over to his drum set slowly, not breaking eye contact. Gladio grinned and continued to lay it down, fingers flying, his head moving back and forth just slightly.

“Oh, hell yes dude.” Prompto laughed happily, nodded his head, and started drumming out the rhythm, bringing in the cymbals and the kick drum. Noct wasn’t there to hit the lead, but Prompto held it down well.  He played a big fill as Gladio grooved to a halt.

“Probably not right for us - we should probably find something lighter, more fun for a cover. Not copy a stadium rock band.” Gladio grinned at Prompto.  “Little too on the nose, especially since we’re hardly playing stadiums. So far.”

“You’re a fucking master though, dude.” Prompto was impressed, and not shy about showing it.

Gladio smiled again. “Thanks.” He worked hard, but it still felt great to have someone acknowledge it. And Prompto was no slouch himself - so far, he'd proven to be a great addition to Coernix and someone who was fun to hang with, too.

Noctis wandered back in with some water as Gladio adjusted the feedback on his amp.

“We still need a good cover.” Noctis fiddled with a dial on his guitar and scowled thoughtfully.

* * *

Crowe dragged a rolled-up sleeping bag out of the back of the red jeep and nodded up at Nyx, who was unfastening the tent from the top rack. “This weekend was really great, huh?”

He looked down at her and grinned. “You know I'm always happy to come home smelling like campfire smoke.”

She grabbed one of the straps over his shoulders with one hand and slid the other around his waist, momentarily distracting him from his task. “Happy is right. I don't think I've seen you smile that much in a long time, babe.”

“Too bad we can't camp out with our friends under the stars for a living, hey?” She watched the small tattoo under his eye move as he grinned at her.

Crowe stepped close to Nyx, leaning comfortably into his chest. “I noticed something else this weekend.”

“That Libertus is a magnet for mosquito bites and smoke in the face?”

Crowe laughed. It was true, poor guy. No matter where he sat, the wind would change and he'd be on the bad side of the campfire. She shook her head. “No, you found your music again.”

“Yeah, it's always good to play with everyone. It helps that my wife has a gorgeous voice.” He squeezed her hip affectionately.  

“That's not what I meant. You were happy again. In a way I haven't seen in a long time, Nyx.” Her voice was serious and she laid a hand on his sweater, soft against the chill of the early fall breeze. “You should play more. You should do something with this.”

“Says the woman with a violin gathering dust and an unused music scholarship.” He brushed brown waves from the side of her face, looking down at her adoringly.

“We're talking about you, not me.” He'd been drifting since his second tour of duty, unmoored and struggling. Music had grounded him and brought him back to himself in a way Crowe wanted to capture.

“We should be talking about both of us.” He looked down at her with the spark of an idea.

They talked it over; called Lib; called Pelna; tried to see if they could work it out. They thought they could, and as Crowe sat on the floor two weeks later, tightening a violin string, she looked up and caught his eyes, hopeful and daring like the night they'd first met. “So, we give this a year? Really do it, only do other shit to pay the bills. Pour all the good energy into music, fight to make this happen.”

She wanted this as much as he did, as it turned out. Nyx dropped to the floor behind Crowe and wrapped his arms around her. “Two years? I think we're worth it.”

She grinned that fearless grin again and set her instrument down, turning in his arms to kiss him with fire and dreams and pure, strong love.

* * *

“No.” Luna paused, phone held to her ear.

“No,” she said again, in a slightly lower tone, blue eyes steely, posture perfect.

“Sorry, but the answer is still no. I understand that you feel that way. No, I will not reconsider.” She hung up and made a face at the phone, tossing it onto the couch and sinking gracefully into an ornately carved chair.

Ravus looked over at her, and the relief that surged through his sister brought a rare smile to his lips. He stood, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They looked for a long moment at the summer sun brightening the manicured gardens outside.

“Well, that’s one chapter fully closed. I hope. Can we really pull this off, do you think?” She turned to look up at him, earnest but nervous.

He looked down at her, intense as always but encouraging. “Absolutely.”

Luna watched his empty left shirt sleeve swing free as he moved into the next room, answering the call of their mother, and sighed. She always felt petty, worrying about her own troubles when he’d certainly faced much graver dangers.  Still, there was no one she’d rather have backing her up.

* * *

Gladio glanced at his phone as a text buzzed through. “Holy shit, you guys, I gotta call my sister real quick.”

Ignis’ gaze darted over. “Everything all right at home?”

“Yeah, real good actually; she got into Chicago Law.” Noctis made an impressed noise as Gladio left the room.

It rang one and a half times before she picked up. “Hey, squirt, how’s it going?”

Iris sighed heavily through the phone. “Honestly, I don’t really know how to feel. _You_ know, Gladdy.”

“Congratulations, but I’m not surprised; you’re brilliant.”

“Dad is never gonna let this go now.” Her tone verged on whining, but Gladio wasn’t going to call her out on it..

“Yeah, I suppose I didn’t make that real easy on you, did I?”  Gladio rubbed the back of his neck. “Still, I’m sure there’s some bangin’ law school parties that need a good DJ…”

“That is not the same thing and you know it. You owe me, big time. Dad has pinned all his annoying lawyer hopes and dreams on me, now that you’re …”

“His failure son working as a security guard and running around the country in a beat-up van chasing some ridiculous pipe dream?”

“Oooh, you talked to him recently, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”  They laughed quietly.  “You gonna go?”

“I don’t know, Gladdy. On one hand I feel like, why not, it can’t hurt, but on the other hand I’m scared that I care so little I’ll fail out. Like, why take someone’s spot who really wants to be there?  And waste all that money?”

Gladio hummed thoughtfully in agreement.  “You know I support you, whatever you wanna do.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want to work at Dad’s firm. You think he would be more or less disappointed if he thought I was going to be a public defender?” She sounded defiant but amused.

Gladio laughed. “Good luck breaking that one to him.”  He paused for a long moment. “Mom would be proud, though. Even if you don’t go. She was always real proud of how smart you are.”

Iris was quiet, too; then, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m proud too, kiddo. Let me know if I can run interference with Dad for you.”

She made a small noise, and he could just see her face wrinkled up in exasperation. “I will. Good luck with the tour. Can you come through here next time?”

Ever the wheedling little sister, Gladio thought.  He grinned. Her unquestioning certainty that there would be a next time was heartening. “Absolutely, Chicago’ll be top of the list. Thanks, Iris. Love you. Let me know how things go, okay?”

“I will. And I love you too. Call me sometimes from the road.”

“You got it.” Gladio let her hang up first, and then touched the button on his phone thoughtfully. She’d be fine, as long as their dad didn’t put one of his giant thumbs on the scale while she made her decision.

He walked back into the garage, and Noctis and Ignis were gathered around Noct’s laptop snickering. Prompto was nowhere to be seen - Gladio figured it was his turn for dinner duty.

“Whatcha watching?” Gladio peered over Ignis’ shoulder at the screen - a punk band hollered from bad-quality video. Odd, not stuff these two would normally watch. Ignis shook his head in disbelief, and Noctis cackled.

“Wait, that blue-haired guy looks familiar.” Gladio moved closer.

“Yeah dude that’s Prompto!” Noctis was grinning and bobbing his head along to the song, a rapid-fire tune, catchy pop-flavored punk with a considerable amount of yelling but a decent melody.

Prompto came back in, drinks in hand and a giant bag of food in his teeth. He saw what they were watching and cringed. He set the drinks down quickly on the top of the recycling bin and transferred the bag to his hand, holding the other one up and waving it at them.

“No! Nonononono, oh god you guys… please don’t watch that. I totally forgot that was still out there.” He set the bag down and covered his eyes. “Uuuugh,” he groaned weakly.

“Sunshine Fuckups, Prom?” Noctis was cackling. “How did I not know about this?”

“ _I didn’t choose the name, smartass_ ,” Prompto hissed. “And it was before I transferred.”

“But you guys were good though!  This is adorable!” Noctis couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, reaching for and unwrapping food while continuing to watch. “What are you, like sixteen here?”

“Fourteen,” Prompto mumbled. “Pro tip - don’t put a curse word in your band name when you’re not old enough to get into clubs.” He was bright red behind his freckles.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Prompto.” Ignis was pulled up to his full height, arms crossed.

“You can’t be serious, Ignis. Why would you care that I didn’t show you these dumb old videos, oh my god…” Prompto trailed off.

“No, you can _sing_ , Prompto. Don’t think we’ll avoid taking full advantage of that.” Prompto looked up at him and grinned in response. Ignis moved back to the corner to rearrange some of the junk and tools and fish out an old extra mic stand.

Noctis cut in. “Yeah, we already watched the Rihanna cover.” He snorted, and Prompto just closed his eyes.

“Do it up, Phil Collins!” Gladio punched him on the shoulder and rummaged for a taco.

Prompto shucked his leather jacket off and threw it into a corner. “Shut uuuuup. One of the shrimp ones is mine, okay?”

* * *

They practiced for hours, eager to polish everything as much as they could before setting off.

Ignis flexed his fingers and looked at his fingertips. “Well, I’m shredded, and not in a good way. Call it a night?”

“Wuss.” Noctis grinned good-naturedly at him and stepped on a pedal, turning it off. “You guys wanna hit the bar, kick things off?”

Prompto broke in, eager. “I’ve been touring with a straight-edge band for months, hell yeah I could use a beer.”

They laughed, unplugged, and set their instruments aside temporarily. The three of them waited for Noctis out in the driveway while he pulled the garage door down and locked it before turning to the rest of them.

“Time to pack up tomorrow, you guys.” Noctis’ soft smile lit up the blue eyes peeking at them through long black strands. Ignis patted him on the shoulder, and Gladio grinned. “Finally.” Prompto bounced once and took off running toward the van, hollering for shotgun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration for this chapter comes from Patrick Stump's [Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia)](https://youtu.be/C5nC1yoTh3M), Muse's [Hysteria](https://youtu.be/oYWklAV_cwQ) (go Gladio!), All Time Low's [cover of Umbrella](https://youtu.be/dVEZzUpRPZo), and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros' [Home](https://youtu.be/DHEOF_rcND8).
> 
> So many thanks to my wonderful beta [littlecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes), an amazing writer who you should absolutely check out! Any remaining errors are mine.


	3. you made your bed, sleep in it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip begins! Nyx and Crowe get ready to play their first road show, and Ravus and Luna start their own journey.

Ignis harassed them all for three days to make lists, get packed, and check their equipment. It still took him an entire day to get them organized when it was time to leave. The sun was setting as they finally pulled out of Gladio and Noctis’ driveway

Ignis ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, then he looked into the side mirrors and angled the huge van into reverse.

Once they hit the highway he seemed to loosen up, helped along by Gladio’s management of the music for the ride. He played some of their favorites, and before long Ignis had relaxed enough to tap his fingers on the steering wheel and sing along lightly.

Noctis was quiet but content, staring quietly out the window as they left the city lights behind and stars poked through the thick velvety purple surface of the night sky. He grinned when a favorite of his came on and leaned forward to poke at Gladio’s sizable bicep.

“Oh dude, turn this up. Listen to this solo!”

Gladio grinned and turned it up. Noctis waited for the solo to finish and started chattering about it; a discussion that Prompto followed only part of but that definitely sounded like Advanced Music Nerd, and he grinned at Noctis’ excited handwaving.

Gladio’s playlist clicked forward to a slinky song with a heavy bass beat and a slithering riff. _Oh, well if that isn’t classically perfect fucking timing. Ugh._ Prompto put headphones in and curled up in the backseat, trying to look like he was just trying to grab some rest.

Ignis hit traffic, sighed, and popped the top on the canned coffee he’d propped in the front seat cup holder. He looked around, moving slightly to the beat.

“This is good. New?” he asked Gladio, taking a sip.

Prompto burrowed further into his corner.

“New to me. I dig it though.”

Ignis nodded in agreement.  “Who is it?”

“Group called Stoss, but I think it’s just the singer leading it mostly. Can’t remember her name, though.”

“Me, either, but I think she’s from New York.” Noctis poked Prompto. “Hey, you were living in New York before the tour, right? Give this a listen - do you know who this is?”

Prompto winced and took out an earbud. He sighed a little bit. “Yeah, this is Stoss. I know it.” His hand hovered with the earbud, looking to shove it back in and get back to his podcast.

“Yeah yeah, but who is it? Do you know the singer’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s - Aranea Highwind.” The words were thick in Prompto’s mouth, and he hoped his feelings weren’t written all over his face for Noctis, and if he turned around, Gladio to see.

Of course it was Ignis, always perceptive, who flicked a glance into the rearview mirror.

“Let Prompto sleep if he wants to sleep, Noct.” His tone was a little scolding, but Noctis took it well, just giving Prompto a little smile.

“Sorry. Yeah, maybe Iggy’s gonna let _you_ drive next. Rest up,” Noctis teased.

“Not likely.” Ignis responded from the front.

“It’s not you - he doesn’t let anyone else drive. Do ya Specs? Not even Gladio, and he’s supposedly the other responsible one.”  Prompto grinned at Noctis’ words, noticing where that left Noctis in their little group.

Ignis pushed up his glasses, and his British accent became slightly more clipped. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that it gives me something to do. Riding in the passenger seat is insufferably boring, and -”

“Riding in the back makes you carsick. I know, Iggy. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Noctis’ words were affectionate, and Ignis smiled back at him.

Prompto pulled his hood up over his head and turned toward the window, watching the lights of the cars around them blend into snaking lines as the traffic finally let up and they moved on their way. It was a long way back to the East Coast, and their journey was just beginning _._

* * *

“Mother _fuck_! Ow!” Nyx hissed and put a finger to his cheek, checking for blood.

“Snap a string, baby?” Crowe strolled by with an amp and kissed the red mark, taking a moment to focus her eyes on his. She cupped his bristly cheek with her free hand. “Time to pack up, hey?”

“Yeah, just gotta replace this string first.” He scowled. “These are way too new to snap like that.”

Crowe laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what would have caused that - the incessant alternate tunings, the fact that you strum like you’re trying to scrub rust off a bumper…”

Nyx set his guitar down and placed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “And here I thought you appreciated all my hard work.”

Crowe set down the amp and sat down next to him on the couch. “I really am so proud of you.” Her short nails scratched at the close-shaven hair at the side of his head, and Nyx leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She curled against his shoulder. “Actually playing out of town - it’s a start, right?”

Nyx pulled her into his lap. “It is. And a whole new town of people to hear that gorgeous voice. I can’t wait.”

She gave him a flattered chuckle and a slow, languid kiss for that, settling firmly against his hips.

“When do we have to go?” Nyx’s gaze darkened, and his hips lifted a little to press back against her.

“Not for another couple of hours.” Liquid brown eyes peeked from beneath thick, curling lashes.

“What time are the rest of the assholes planning on getting there?”

“Oh, who knows? I’m sure Lib will get lost and Tredd will be late. Or high.”

“Or both.” They laughed, and Crowe’s hair fell out of its loose bun to drift softly down over her shoulders as she giggled.

Nyx scooted backward to lay on the couch, and Crowe followed, crawling on top to capture his mouth again, tasting his lips and letting out a quiet hum. His hands slid over her back, and they celebrated their send-off in exactly the way they both wanted.

* * *

Ignis strolled out from the motel bathroom, warbling as usual, leftover strains from the song he’d been singing in the shower. “When you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer…”

Prompto had heard his voice a lot by that point, what with all their practicing before they left, but his range and the smooth tone still knocked him for a loop. “Ignis, that sounds awesome! We still don’t have a cover; we should do that one! It’s such a good song.”

Ignis grinned. “Thank you, Prompto. Unfortunately, we don’t have any horns. Or a clavinet.”

“I have a clavinet!” Noctis yelled from the hallway, where he was coming back from getting ice and some sodas.

Gladio grumbled. “Tell me I did not let you shove that in the van. We’re low enough on space as it is.”

Noctis’ face fell. “Oh, yeah. I guess it’s at home. But I could totally do it with the keyboard and some effects.  Also I saw on this youtube video that if I played my guitar with a screwdriver, I could kinda get the same sound...”

He kept talking as he set the ice and soda down and perched on the end of the bed, and Prompto laughed and bounced onto the mattress next to him. “The horns _are_ pretty distinctive. Maybe we can hook up with a ska band at some point.” He took the orange soda Noctis handed him. “Thanks. What’s dinner tonight?”

“I’m gonna go out and grab something.” Gladio’s deep voice rumbled from the chair where he was absentmindedly fiddling with his notebook and staring out the window. “What do you guys want?”

“Nachos.”

“Noct, that isn’t food.”

“I could go for some tacos, I could get both.” Gladio pondered, ignoring Ignis’ objection. “What about you, Prompto?”

Prompto’s phone had buzzed multiple times while the others talked, and he was frowning at it. His cheeks reddened and he stabbed out a quick reply, then slammed his phone face down on the bed. It buzzed again immediately, and his eyebrows drew together.  “Sorry, what? Yeah - food. Uh, I’m cool with whatever. Thanks, Gladio.” He made a face that he knew looked sheepish and tried not to let the two additional messages that obviously came through bother him.He was tempted to turn his phone off altogether, but he didn’t want to be out of contact for something important and _really_ didn’t want to face a string of texts all at once when he turned it back on.

His mouth set in a firm line, Prompto quickly typed another response and got up to plug his phone in across the room. Just as he was setting it down on the desk, it started ringing.  A heavy gust of a sigh barrelled out of his gut, and he unplugged the phone, nodding vaguely at the others and striding from the room.

Gladio was carefully parking their monster-sized van in the hotel parking lot when he saw Prompto on the phone, pacing back and forth with quick steps and gesturing in midair. He kicked at a concrete parking bumper with a black-booted foot. Gladio opened the van door and hauled out the bags of food, trying not to overhear what seemed to be an intense conversation, but it was a small parking lot, and the conversation drifted over toward him.

“God, we have been over this _so_ many times.” Prompto’s voice broke, and he ran a hand through his hair while pacing away again. He spotted Gladio, and a look of embarrassment but also relief crossed his freckled face. “Look, I can’t talk right now, okay?” He hung up, stared at the sky, and sighed.

“Everything okay?” Gladio ventured, gently. They’d spent a lot of time in practice rooms and making music together for the last month, but he still didn’t feel like he knew Prompto well enough to start prying into his personal life.

“Uuuuugh, not really; thanks for asking, though.” Prompto gave Gladio a watery smile, and his honesty was endearing. He took some of the food from Gladio to help carry it inside.

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, man. This is one of those things that just takes time. And maybe a road adventure with some fun dudes who let me crash with their band.” He put on a silly affected surfer accent for the last few words and shot Gladio finger guns around the bag he was holding.

Gladio laughed and mussed Prompto’s hair as they passed through the motel door to head back to the room.

* * *

Luna pulled a large suitcase through the lounge, came to a stop, and perched, stiff-backed, on the edge of a seat. Her eyes were hidden behind giant sunglasses, and a long golden braid swept over her shoulder. She reached up to fiddle with it.

Ravus trailed her pulling another suitcase. He tried to relax his shoulders into a casual posture but he was still getting used to wearing his prosthetic in public, and he stopped and tugged his shirt cuff down over it self-consciously. He walked to stand beside Luna and looked down at her.

“It’s going to be fine.” His voice was soft enough not to carry, and she stopped fidgeting her hair long enough to squeeze his hand.

“I know. I just hate flying.”

“I quite sympathize.” Ravus didn’t fear flying, but the idea of a transatlantic flight, even in business class, trying to fold six feet three inches of himself into the seats, was less than appealing. Still, it was leaps and bounds more comfortable than the military convoys he was used to traveling in, and he didn’t have the same trepidation as Luna did about what awaited them at the other end. He squeezed her hand back. “It’ll be fun. You haven’t been to the States in almost a year. I’m sure you miss New York. Or was it LA?” His brow furrowed.

Luna laughed, finally. “I’ll enjoy showing both of them to you. They’re quite different. Do you want to sit? I’m going to get a mimosa.”

Ravus shuddered. “I’ll stand; take the leg stretching while I can get it. And yes, thank you, Moons.” He strolled absently, watched the planes roll back and forth on the tarmac, and listened as the various squawky announcements blared.

She stuck her tongue out at him and shook her head at the childhood nickname. Once at the bar, her practiced, engaging smile took over and she charmed the bartender without even trying.

Ravus watched her, and grinned. She was going to be fine.

* * *

“I’m not gonna listen to you, boy whose punk band covered Rihanna.”

“Oh, do share with me the next-level shit you were listening to at fourteen.” Prompto narrowed his eyes at Noctis. “Wait. Can I guess?”

Noctis shrugged. “Fine, I’ll own it.”

Ticking off on his fingers, Prompto started.

“Bjork.”

“Guilty.”

“Zep.”

“Of course.” Noctis scoffed.

“Uhhh, Floyd?”

“Nah, that was later, that would have been - “

Prompto laughed and chimed in. “College, right. Okay, one more.” He thought for a moment.

“Pulp?”

“Nailed it. Although, that’s cheating a little bit; I’m sure I was still listening to them by the time we crossed paths.”

“Yeah, probably. Anyway, Umbrella is a really meaningful song, okay?”

Noctis stopped with his drink halfway to his mouth in a wheeze of laughter. He set the cup down before he dropped it, and crumpled over in giggles.

“Oh please - “ Noctis gasped for air - “enlighten me.”  

Prompto’s impassioned defense began, with lengthy quoting of lyrics and pontification on the idea of solid friendship; he even sang a few bars of the song to Noctis to make his point.

Noctis’ snickering calmed a little, and he listened to Prompto go on, watching him closely. “I guess it does have a certain earnest charm to it. It’s straightforward and heartfelt, and that’s - we need more of that in the world, I think.”

Prompto was vigorously nodding, but stopped for a minute as he thought. He narrowed his eyes at Noctis. “Are you - “ His voice trailed off suspiciously.

“Am I what?” Noctis picked his drink back up and sidled from the room, a faint grin lingering around the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Prompto was leaned against the brick wall of the motel, staring at the screen of his phone and frowning.

“Ok, Ringo, let’s get in the van.” Gladio hoped that a little gentle teasing would distract him. He’d seen him in the motel’s bare-bones little gym early that morning, beating the shit out of an old punching bag in the corner. Gladio had just moved through his usual routine, but he didn’t even think Prompto had seen him.

Prompto gave him a good-natured glare. “You better knock that off unless you want me to start calling you Paul.” Prompto had already figured out that Paul was Gladio’s least favorite Beatle, and it drew a deep laugh from him as he held the door open for Prompto to duck inside.

“Are we off, then?” Ignis was businesslike and ready to go.

Noctis answered with a long grunt that merged into a sigh, and hauled himself up to flop in the seat. “I’m glad someone can deal with mornings. Ready when you are.” He put on his seatbelt and pulled his hat over his face, returning almost instantly to the deep slumber he’d been in in the room.

Gladio turned around to talk to Noctis, who shifted irritably. “Talked to Iris; she got into town just fine, and she’s looking forward to housesitting. Iggy, she promised to water your plants, too.”

Ignis smiled, and his eyes flicked over to Gladio in gratitude. “Thank you, that was thoughtful to ask. I can’t believe that slipped my mind. How is Iris?”

“Real good. Got some friend with her from college, so they’re gonna have some fun not being in Chicago for the summer.”

Ignis shifted the van into reverse and angled it smoothly out of the parking lot. “She’s got a year left, correct?”

“Yeah, unless she decides to go to grad school.” Gladio took a swig from the giant water bottle next to him. “Not surprised she wants to get away from my dad for a few weeks.”

Ignis chuckled. “She can hold her own.”

“Oh trust me, I know it. But he can be a pain in the ass about this stuff.”

Ignis nodded as he merged back onto the highway.

The day passed by, sunny and uneventful. The long, flat stretches of road were mesmerizing.  Prompto and Noctis spent most of the day playing King’s Knight on their phones and trash talking one another. Gladio switched between scribbling in his journal, chatting with Ignis, and checking the directions on his phone to make sure they were still on track.

As day waned into night, Ignis rolled his shoulders. “How far out are we, Gladio?” He sighed.

“Exit 130,” Gladio said, as Exit 117 scrolled past.

“Thank goodness,” Ignis mumbled, and turned up the radio.

Exit 130 looked relatively uncivilized, with lush greenery crowding the sides of the highway.  

“So uh, where’s the motel this time?” Prompto looked around, a little confused.

Ignis smiled quietly and turned at a sign marking a state park.

“Dude, are we camping?” Prompto sounded excited.

“Heck yeah, why do you think I brought the tent and stuff?” Gladio picked up Prompto’s enthusiasm and turned around to give him a thumbs-up.

Noctis, who had woken up when the car slowed, groaned. “Ugh, camping? Really? Is it really that much cheaper than a crappy motel with a real bed?”

Before Gladio could defend himself, Ignis chimed in. “Yes, it is, and it’s only a few of the nights. I think you’ll find it much preferable to couch surfing or sleeping in the van, which we’ll also be doing.”

Gladio grinned. He _liked_ camping, and Ignis was absolutely catering to him rather than just finding a cut-rate Motel 6 or something. Who knew, maybe Ignis kinda liked it too.

After they’d settled in and eaten a surprisingly high-quality meal for being prepared on a little propane stove, Ignis sat back for a moment and took a deep breath. “It truly is stunning out here. Look at all the stars you can see without the glare of the city lights.”

“Yeah.” Gladio looked up, then snatched a quick glance next to him. Ignis was propped up on his elbows, and he gazed at the stars with a thoughtful, dreamy expression that made Gladio’s chest feel tight.

Gladio looked for action, movement, to distract him from the odd feeling, and realized Ignis looked tired.

“I’ll clean up, okay? Go grab some sleep.”

“That’s not necessary, Gladio, I’m - ”

“Nah, I got it. You cooked, I’ll clean. Plus, you drove all day.” Gladio slapped Ignis on the shoulder, and Ignis jumped just a little before flashing one of those insufferably blinding smiles up at him.

Gladio grinned. “Hey, you entertain my weird outdoorsy streak, I’m grateful.” Noctis and Prompto had already crawled into the tent, and soft snores joined the singing of crickets as the air cooled.

Gladio spent a long time that night listening to the little huffs and snores of the other three before he was able to fall asleep. It made an odd sort of music, he thought, mixed with the whip of the wind and the noises of the insects outside. Maybe he’d write a song about it, he thought, before sleep finally claimed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical inspiration for this chapter came from Panic! at the Disco's [cover of Dua Lipa's IDGAF](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LF-1zy8VII4), St. Vincent's [Los Ageless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8jxAKmojxY), and the eternal Stevie Wonder's [Superstition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9ZI0gBhm_w). There is an [entire playlist for this fic here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1o0kHZIfIIzCymsawskFqQ) if you are so inclined. 
> 
> So many thanks to my wonderful beta [littlecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes), an amazing writer who you should absolutely check out! Any remaining errors are mine.


	4. wander the concrete (it ain't me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna makes a step forward toward her goal, and Nyx, Crowe, and the rest of their band do too. The guys learn a little more about Prompto, and Noctis gains another stray instrument.

 

Luna walked through the expensive lobby without seeing it; the marble floors clacked under her shiny, blush-colored heels unnoticed. She and her brother presented their passports to the friendly security guard at the front desk, and were smoothly checked in and directed toward the third bank of elevators. Luna stared at the shiny gold numbers on the wall indicating the relevant floors and made a straight line toward her destination.

Ravus trailed behind her, providing a comforting presence but letting her do this on her own. He looked at the grain of the hardwood set into the walls and shook his head in amusement at the television screen that flashed a constant stream of the day’s headlines, complete with stock tickers. His eyes widened appreciatively at the giant red blown glass sculpture adorning the center table, and he looked down at the placard containing the artist’s name as they walked by.  

They filed into the elevator, and the security guard followed, pressed a keycard to the access pad, and pressed the button for the 48th floor. Luna took a deep breath and looked up at Ravus next to her.

“He won't be there, right?”

“He” was Ardyn Izunia, the producer who'd been the source of nearly all of Luna's stress for nearly an entire year. What had started as a merely overbearing, condescending demeanor had descended into a fight that was hurtful and nasty. Ravus had been horrified at the contract she'd signed—he'd been in the service at the time. Their mother had been desperate to hold onto the family's estate, and either ignorant or willfully blind to how bad it was.

Luna's contract had earned her millions, but she'd effectively lost the rights to all of her music. Her songs, that she'd spent hours on in her room, in the studio, in the backs of tour buses:  gone. It was massively unfair, and they'd hired some of the best lawyers in the country to help her try to get them back.

Ravus reached across his body to give Luna's hand a squeeze. “Regis assured us he wouldn't. This is just a signature.”

She nodded. “Right. Thanks.”

The doors slid open, and another pair of glass doors gleamed to their left. Luna took a deep breath and pushed forward.  

Behind the desk, a trendily-dressed receptionist answered a ringing phone just as they stepped up to the desk. He made eye contact and lifted one finger apologetically as he answered.

“Lucis Caelum and Amicitia, how may I direct your call?”

Ravus leaned close to Luna and murmured, “What a mouthful. You think he has to say that every time?” Her thin smile in response was worth the weak joke.

The receptionist transferred the call, hung up, and looked at them brightly. “How can I help you today?”

Luna moved forward and smiled nervously. “I'm Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, and this is my brother, Ravus. We're here to see Regis Lucis Caelum.”

The receptionist was nodding as soon as she said his first name. “It's been so fun to have him here from the LA office. Let me just buzz him and then I'll take you right back.” He pressed a few buttons on the phone. “Hi Regis. I have Lunafreya and...Oh, great. We'll be right there.”

He stood up and shook Luna's hand, then Ravus’. “I'm Talcott. Can I take your coats?” He walked them over to the coat closet, and Luna thanked him quietly. His friendly charm was already putting her at ease. “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, soda?”

“I’d love some tea.” Luna smiled graciously. Ravus just politely declined, and Luna shook her head fondly. She wrapped her hands around the steaming mug, and they followed Talcott down a sleek, modern hallway to an office, where the door was open. A man with a full, well-trimmed dark grey beard and matching swept-back hair rose eagerly to greet them. His black suit was elegantly tailored and shot through with subtle tone-on-tone pinstripes. He’d paired it with a simple white shirt and black tie; despite the simplicity of the color scheme, Ravus knew well enough to observe that he was quite expensively attired.

“Luna! It is an absolute pleasure.” He shook her hand with both of his. She nodded, and visibly relaxed. “I hope you had good travels here.”

“Untroubled, thankfully.” Luna exhaled a little. “This is my brother, Ravus.”

Ravus stepped from behind Luna to grasp Regis’ hand firmly.

“It’s great to meet you, Ravus. I’ve heard such wonderful things from your sister.” Though Regis’  manners were polished, it was clear that the statement was not just politeness. He met Ravus’ gaze and held it level.

Ravus nodded in response. “My pleasure, and the same.” He held back on effusive praise until they heard what results Regis had been able to wrangle from Starscourge Records.

Regis sat behind his desk and gestured toward the two guest chairs on the other side. “Please, have a seat.”

As they lowered themselves into the sleek chairs, Regis took out a folder with documents inside. “We’re still not finished with negotiations—Ulldor’s firm is being particularly difficult—but the important part is that you can perform again. Under your old name, or any name you’d like.”

He pulled out a document marked “Settlement Agreement” across the top and handed it to Luna to read. Ravus itched to snatch it out of her hands and read it, especially after all her previous trouble, and he nearly had to sit on his hand to avoid doing so. She needed to do this herself, and he’d help if asked. Instead, he focused on Regis.

“So, this doesn’t quite resolve everything, is that right?”

Regis looked pained. “That’s right. This has been an excruciatingly difficult process. Luna’s been quite successful as Lunafreya, and Izunia is understandably quite reluctant to let her go.”

Ravus looked at Luna. “I thought you’d agreed to pay him off.”

She sighed. “I did, but he’s apparently being difficult about the details.” She looked at Regis, nodding to him to fill Ravus in, and continued to turn pages.

Regis gestured with his hands. “Starscourge is demanding that Luna finish the four songs she still owes them and not record with anyone else until they’re done. They _were_ also demanding that she not perform live until that’s done, but that’s the part we’ve worked out here.”

Ravus wrinkled his nose. “That’s just unreasonable. And why the odd piecemeal paperwork? Wouldn’t it be cleaner just to resolve everything in one document?”

Regis nodded. “We did talk about that, but doing it this way allows Luna to get back to performing as quickly as possible.”

Luna looked up, distracted. “Yes. That’s right. Four songs are”—she waved her hand—“it could happen tomorrow, or not for months. I don’t want to be stuck in some studio, unable to tour, to perform, until I give them what they demand. I’d go insane and probably never write anything again.” She laughed, a little bitterly, and continued scrutinizing the document.

“We’ll get there. It’s just a matter of hammering out the small details.” Regis projected confidence, but Ravus wondered.

“Why the four songs? Don’t they know she wants to move on?”

Regis smiled wryly. “Izunia can make far more on four of Luna’s songs than we would be willing to offer in settlement. He’s hanging onto that quite tightly.”

Ravus thought for a moment. He looked around Regis’ office, at the framed diplomas and certificates on the wall, on  the glass paperweights on the desk, at the shiny business card holder. His eyes flicked back up to Regis, who sat waiting patiently for Luna to read.

“Does she have to perform them, or just write them?”

Luna stopped reading and turned her head toward her brother. Regis grinned, and met his eyes again. “That’s an excellent observation. The way the current draft is worded, she only has to write them. Starscourge can hire Luna to sing them, _if_ she’s willing”—Luna wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face—“or they can hire someone else to do it. The four songs will belong to them.”

“What about her other songs?”

“The current draft includes a license for Luna to perform any of her own songs in public, but not re-record. Anything televised needs a separate negotiation between the parties. The royalty agreements remain the same.”

Ravus shook his head. “This seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Business divorces often are.” Regis smiled sympathetically.

Luna turned over the last page of the agreement and laid it on the desk. “This looks good to me, and I know you’ll have been over it with your usual fine-tooth comb, Regis. I’ll sign this.”

He unscrewed the cap from a glossy black pen with gold accents and handed it to Luna. She signed with a flourish and handed the page to him.

“Thank you very much, Luna. I appreciate your coming in to handle this.”

She visibly relaxed at concluding the business side of things for the moment. “And you, all the way from LA. How long are you here?”

“I decided to make it two weeks; make it worth the trip. I do enjoy New York, particularly in the fall. Will the two of you be spending some time here?”

Luna nodded eagerly. “Ravus has never been to the States at all, and I’m so excited to show it to him.” She leaned forward, and the two of them began exchanging recommendations, thoughts, and mirthful recollections of their favorite spots in the city.

Ravus sat back and smiled fondly. This would be a lovely few days of relaxation. Luna deserved it before launching the next phase of her career. A sudden shot of nerves clenched his gut, and he straightened his shoulders to stave off the internal worry that he wouldn’t be good enough to support her.

* * *

Libertus peeked nervously around the corner, and scuttled back to where everyone else was milling. “You guys, a bunch of people _paid to see us_. I don’t know if I can do this.” He looked nauseous and plopped down in a chair.

Crowe clapped him on the shoulder. “You got this, dude.” Pretending a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, she pulled him up out of the chair. “Drink some water, take a breath. You’ll be fine. It’s just like every county fair and street festival we’ve played, except we get paid this time.”

A supercilious voice broke in. “I mean, technically most of them probably didn’t pay to see _us_. We’re just the opener.”

“Thanks, Luche.” Nyx rolled his eyes and moved past him to look out. The lights were changing—it was time. “Let’s go, guys!”

Nerves surged, and Nyx cleared his throat. He heard all their footsteps as they jogged out onto the stage. It was daunting, being the opener; most people were still grabbing beers, walking around casually, chatting with friends. Nyx stepped up to the microphone.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming out tonight. We’re the Enclave.” He was grateful for the couple of solitary whoops that came from the crowd, and he bent his head to his guitar, then made eye contact with Tredd, who gave him a cocky grin from behind the neck of his bass. Pelna counted them out, and they were off.

Nyx’s soulful voice crooned over the woven-together strains of the various instruments on stage, and the feel of everyone else’s harmonies supporting him on the chorus was almost tangible.

A spotlight picked her out, silhouetted in a soft orange light. Her arm curved gracefully as she drew the bow across the strings. Her solo soared over the music the rest of them wove, and she swooped and danced around the packed stage as much as she had room for; one particularly drawn-out series of notes had her bent back in an arc. She finished and stood up with a flourish, and the rest of the band joined back in on cue. Crowe grinned and flushed.

Nyx felt his heart swell with love and pride, and picked up the vocal again with strength in his voice as her fiddle wove back in among the other instruments. She caught his eye out of the corner of hers, and it felt like home.

As their set continued, things loosened up a little, and Nyx remembered to give a shout out to Elea behind the bar, which got him a nod and a grin. It felt like their short half-hour set was over almost as soon as it had started, and soon they were down to the last two songs.

The lights dimmed; some of the band left the stage and the rest relaxed, hanging back in the dark, drinking water, checking their instruments once their sound turned off.

It was just Nyx, his guitar, and the spotlight, and suddenly nerves struck again. He was grateful for the thumbs-up that Pelna shot him as he slid out from behind the drums and trotted offstage.

He flexed his left hand and settled onto the wooden stool behind him. Pairs of notes slid up the neck under his fingers, and he launched. Heartfelt, slightly rasping tones and a spirited strum lay over a not insignificant amount of anger and frustration.

_I ain't no senator's son_

 

Old song, old feelings. He hadn’t been the first one to come back with too many sweaty, sleepless nights, too many dead friends, too much time spent flinching from the grip of fear around every corner long after he’d left the real danger. Damn, he wished that he and his cohort could be the last, though.

 

_I ain't no fortunate one_

 

Nyx poured himself into the song and hoped it resonated with at least someone in the crowd.

He brought it to a close and took a breath. The applause was definitely muted compared to the band's earlier songs, but what there was sounded earnest. Nyx grinned, took a quick sip of water, and thanked them before hustling the stool out of the way to make room as his bandmates came back. They finished the set with their unanimous favorite original song; a raucous, noisy, foot-stomper. The crowd was warm and jovial, and the little group at the front that had started dancing made Nyx's chest fill with excitement and pride. They were really doing it, and at least some of these folks would leave happier because of music they'd made.

The group of them piled off the stage, breathless and beaming.

“That was so good!” Crowe’s voice raised in an uncharacteristic squeak. She bounced, ruffled Lib’s hair affectionately, and slapped Pelna on the back.

Nyx took a break from chugging a giant bottle of water and wiped his mouth. “Great job, you guys. I think the crowd was digging it.”

“I don’t think they liked that political crap, though.” Sonitus dried himself off with a towel and looked at Nyx.

“I don’t give half a shit.” Nyx leveled a glare at him. They'd all agreed on Nyx playing his song, and it was pretty poor form to complain now, when they were all riding the high of things having gone so well.

“Fine. That's all you, man.” Sonitus pushed past him to stalk outside for a smoke.

Nyx's eyebrows flattened into a straight line and he clenched his jaw. They all worked together to take care of their instruments and equipment and load out - even Sonitus, who returned relatively defused.

 

As they settled into bed that night, Crowe drew small circles on Nyx's chest. He'd curled around her, face to face, too keyed up to sleep. He closed his eyes to the feel of her fingertips on his skin and grinned.

“That went better than it had any right to, didn't it?” He chuckled and opened his eyes to look at her in the faint light.

She just nodded and moved closer to kiss him, full lips sliding against his own. Nyx let out a happy groan and put one hand against the small of Crowe’s back, pressing her flush against him. They kissed for a long few moments, unhurried tongues playing delicately at lips and mouths, building to more heated, unbroken kisses that were deeper and stronger.

Crowe let out a low chuckle and ground against the growing hardness between them. She reached down to wrap her fingers around it and Nyx gasped, closing his eyes again. One of the advantages of sleeping naked, he thought to himself.

“Wanna play?” Crowe took one of Nyx's hands and placed it on her breast, biting her lip as he rolled the already-straining nipple between his thumb and finger.

“You're too tired; you'd be no good to me,” Nyx teased, watching Crowe’s expression change from hazy to naughty in an instant.

“I'll show you tired,” she retorted, and before Nyx could blink she had his wrists pinned over his head and was kissing him again, fiery and insistent.

Crowe rode him hard, coming with a furious toss of her head and streaming that gorgeous brown hair everywhere. She came again when they slowed it down, Nyx stroking up into her with a certain languid, athletic grace despite the late hour. As she chased yet another one, Nyx's tongue on her nipple and fingers working her clit, Nyx wondered if karma was coming for him—he'd had nothing but good for so long, could it really last?

Then everything narrowed down to that tingling, surging spark under his skin, and sensation shoved thought to the side. She lay on his chest and they breathed together, and Nyx felt like they could do anything.

* * *

Noctis walked proudly out of the secondhand shop, cradling a small rectangular piece of equipment, a broken metal loop clutched in his opposite fist.

Gladio walked out of the Mini-Mart sipping a water and did a double take, then sighed. “I thought we agreed, Noct. _No more stray instruments_.”

Prompto laughed and punched Gladio on the arm before running over to Noctis. “Dude, is that a theremin?”

Noctis nodded, a little shyly. “It's broken, so it was a steal.”

Prompto treated him to a crooked smile, taking the instrument carefully in his hands to exclaim over it and talk soldering and replacement parts with Noctis.

Gladio groaned internally and watched the two of them sit down on the curb, wondering where the hell Noctis had found room to stash a soldering gun in their tightly-packed belongings and equipment. He followed Ignis’ leggy stride over to a small corner park. He sat, graceful as always, and Gladio plunked down next to him, happy for their easiness with each other. He congratulated himself again internally for not making things weird, and slung his arm over the back of the wooden bench.

Ignis sipped happily at some coffee drink he'd found down the street, and Gladio took the opportunity to get a little more information about what was happening next.

“So, Indy next?”

Ignis nodded. The two of them had worked together, wrangling school contacts and Gladio’s friends-of-friends from Chicago to find a bar to play at and a couple of couches to sleep on.

“Who are we opening for this time?”

Ignis looked at him, and a slow smile crept across his lips as his eyes lit up with excitement. The strong breeze blew sandy strands to one side of his face. “For once, we’re not the opener. Loqi Tummelt is opening _for us_.”

“Wha—how did you wrangle that? Nice!”

The corners of Ignis’ mouth turned up as he sipped his coffee. “I just talked to the folks at the bar. Do you remember Loqi? No, you probably wouldn’t.”

Gladio nodded. “New York, right? That was when I moved back home for a while.” He looked down and put his hands on his knees for a minute, slightly awkwardly. Ignis leaned his shoulder just lightly into Gladio’s in a show of support. He knew what Gladio was thinking about, and he knew it wasn’t pleasant. Ignis waited another couple of beats before he kept talking.

“Good fellow, plays a mean blues guitar. He’s a solo act, so he’ll just do a short set.”  Gladio looked up and grinned again at Ignis’ words, and he let himself enjoy the graceful, pink-cheeked, windswept profile next to him for a brief moment. Hard to tell whether it was because of anticipation or the brisk air, but it was attractive anyway. “Excited?” He set his coffee down and met Gladio’s eyes quickly before turning back to gaze across the park.

“Fuck yeah, we’re gonna kill it.” Gladio took a drink of his water and grinned at Ignis. They chatted for a while about the rest of the details of the road trip, and Gladio pestered Ignis to let him in on more of the details. Ignis sometimes took on the entire logistical burden himself, and Gladio wanted to help. He was happy to hear that there were more camping nights in front of them, and he looked at the map on Ignis’ phone to listen to him talk about toll roads and alternate routes.

Prompto and Noctis made their way over with the broken theremin, excited to show it off to Ignis. Prompto’s phone buzzed from his pocket and he handed the metal piece back to Noctis.  He pulled out his phone and looked at with trepidation, peeking at it sideways. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was, and eagerly started typing away at a response.

“Everything okay?” Noctis quirked a dark eyebrow, distracted for a moment from his new treasure.

“Yeah, just my dad. He’s excited for us; wants to know how it’s going. Hey, can you take a photo of us with the theremin? He’s a musician—I think he’d like all your random stuff Noct.” Prompto handed the phone to Gladio, who nodded and stood up, then glanced at the screen briefly and almost dropped the phone entirely.

“Wait—is  that some kind of joke name or is that his real name?”

“What? Oh, haha, yeah. Yeah, that’s actually him.” _Here it comes_. Prompto braced sheepishly, watching Gladio look back and forth between him and Noctis.

“Dude. DUDE. Why did you two never tell me that Cor Leonis is his _fucking dad. Holy shit what the fuck.”_ Gladio was in total disbelief, and a little loud. An elderly woman walking a poodle in the park looked over at him.

“It’s not—”   

“He’s kinda—”  

Prompto and Noctis talked over each other, and started laughing.  Ignis had walked over somewhat quickly at the commotion.

“What is the matter over here?”

“Cor Leonis is his fucking _dad_ , that’s what.” Gladio pointed at Prompto and continued to shake his head in amazement, and Ignis’ jaw dropped open as well.

“Lead singer for Black Skull? Basically the godfather of punk? No one thought it might be relevant or interesting to tell us this? I’m also offended.” Ignis crossed his arms and shifted his weight, swiveling a glance between Noctis and Prompto.

“It’s not—I’m not his kid, really.”

“He adopted you!” Noctis shouted and then started giggling again.

“Haha yeah, remember when my algebra teacher went into Maximum Fluster when he showed up?”

"Anyway.” Prompto stopped. “It was just—I lived with him until I started playing shows more. It was just high school, really, but he likes to check in on me.”

“He was your fucking guardian, Prom, don’t minimize it man.” Noctis turned to Gladio and Ignis. “Cor is cool as hell, he explained a whole-ass electric guitar to me in one afternoon. How it worked and everything. Good dude.”

Ignis and Gladio were star-struck, and just looked back and forth as Prompto and Noctis exchanged stories. Apparently Prompto had been a scrubby little punk kid who had no parents to speak of, and Cor’s scoldings that he was too young to be at the bars where his favorite bands played had had no effect on the tiny blond hooligan. One thing had led to another, and before long Prompto was living with Cor and having him sign report cards.

“Catching flies, big guy,” Noctis teased. “Aren't you used to this with all your dad's famous clients?”

“No, he would just talk about them! Not, like…”

Gladio turned to Ignis. He let Prompto and Noctis make their way back to the van to get going before he muttered, “I don’t know what to do with the fact that somebody I idolize is the kid’s _parent._ Makes me feel old. And weird.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Ignis agreed, looking slightly pale.

“ _Oh my god what if he’s listened to our songs.”_ Gladio was panicking and his voice got louder again.

“He has! Says they’re good!” Prompto yelled from the curb.

“ _Oh my god_.” Gladio didn’t know whether to be excited or embarrassed, and just stared at Prompto.

“Good to hear, thank you Prompto.” Ignis, as always, was much quicker to recover and answered in as smooth and mannerly a tone as he could muster.

Gladio laughed and shook his head, and they piled into the van. Noctis swore up and down he did _not_ intentionally cue up Black Skull’s classic “Keycatrich Kick” when they got rolling, and absolutely no one believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration for this chapter was [One Down by Ben Folds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJPhmQvH9bc), [Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bmp4QWzHak), and [this great cover of CCR's Fortunate Son](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gy11EFQMro).
> 
> Any errors are mine - thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about these characters (or anything else) on [Tumblr](https://stopmopingstarthoping.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Stopmopingstart) \- I love making new friends!


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